


Blame the Armadillos

by leftennant



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Sexy Times, Smuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-17
Updated: 2014-04-17
Packaged: 2018-01-19 18:51:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1480270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leftennant/pseuds/leftennant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rose and the Doctor visit the beach and sexy times follow.  Plus there are armadillos...sort of....</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blame the Armadillos

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the Lillibet Plus One Ficathon, for prompt number 4. Huge snogs for Callistawolf, Fogsblue, and my two awesome betas Develish1, and Glo_win for being so supportive and helpful while I was writing this and not letting me give up on it.

When they talk about it later he always blames the armadillos, but he knows that’s a lie. It was inevitable really. They had been leaning over the precipice waiting to fall for months. All the armadillos did was give a little push. He sometimes thinks about hunting down that particular family of Dasypus Novemcinctus and thanking them personally. Maybe someday when he and Rose aren’t playing or shagging or running for their lives he’ll do just that. 

***

It’s a blazing hot afternoon the day they decide to visit Savannah, Georgia. Rose comes bounding through the TARDIS doors wearing a bikini under a pair of shorts and a nearly transparent white vest that is practically giving the Doctor tandem heart palpitations. Dressed in his usual brown suit with a navy messenger bag slung over his shoulder, he follows her out.

Rose throws her hands up in the air and dances around in the golden sunshine. “Oh this,” she enthuses, braids swinging merrily on either side of her head, “this is _gorgeous_!” 

The braids are killing him a little bit. Partially because he finds them so adorable, but mostly because she looks so _young_ with them. An uncomfortable reminder of the disparity in their ages and species…and how it makes the way he feels about her seem utterly inappropriate. Despite this, he can’t help tugging a plait and she beams up at him. He beams right back with a blinding flash of teeth and dimples. 

“I promised you a beach and plenty of sun, didn’t I Dame Tyler?”

“You certainly did, Sir Doctor…although…the beach looks an awful lot like a city block. Think it’s hiding under that fire escape over there?” Her eyes sparkle laughingly at him as she points down the alley. 

“Hmm.” He looks around at what is undoubtedly downtown Savannah with a furrowed brow. “Weeeell, you have a point. Fortunately, it’s easily remedied. We could either return to the TARDIS and I’ll whisk us away to Tybee Island, or…” He loses his train of thought as Rose adjusts the strap on her bikini top, causing her breasts to bounce enticingly under the thin vest. 

“Or?” she prompts, giving him a poke.

He snaps back to attention, it would never do for her to notice him staring at her chest. She might get _ideas_ , and he knows just how dangerous ideas are. He has a few ideas of his own regarding the two of them and her lovely, perky breasts… 

The Doctor valiantly tries to marshal his unruly thoughts. “Or… we could rent a car and I’ll drive you there.”

“You alright?” she inquires, in a tone that makes him wonder if she _did_ catch him ogling her. “’Cause you seem a bit distracted there.” 

“I’m never distracted, Rose Tyler,” he scoffs, catching her hand and leading her out of the alley. “You’re just witnessing my incredibly impressive brain at work. I’m only devoting 37% of my brainpower to this conversation, with the other…” He uses his incredibly impressive brain to do some quick math. “…63% I’m working out where to find a car rental place, how to get to Tybee Island, calculating the proximity between us and the Cat’s Eye nebula…”

She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. You’re clever beyond words. What I wanna know is, how you’re gonna rent the car, hm? You have a secret American bank account you never told me about?” 

“Oi,” he says, bumping her shoulder and sending her skipping several steps away on the sidewalk. “I’ll have you know that I am perfectly capable of paying for a car rental. I’ve still got some American currency left from that time we visited Coney Island.”

“How is that possible?” she exclaims. “You practically bought out all the candyfloss, and I’m not even going to get into how many hot dogs you ate. My stomach’s still queasy from watching you.”

He grins and shrugs. “What can I say, I’m a bloke with big appetites.” Rose’s eyebrows fly up, and he realizes just how suggestive that sounded. “For food! Big appetites for food. Not for ah…other things. Not that I don’t like other things, other things might be very nice…or you know, fine. I’m sure they are fine. What I mean to say is that statement was regarding hunger and not other things which might or might not be related to…nevermind.” 

At this point, if Rose’s eyebrows got any higher on her forehead they’d actually be on the _other_ side of her hairline. He clears his throat nervously and attempts to distract her with the scenery.

“Oh look, there’s the Waving Girl statue. Very famous, that. Excellent example of erm, statuary. Don’t you think?” He turns Rose to face the statue and then pulls his hands off her arms like he’s been scalded. 

She briefly glances up at the metal girl waving a towel at passing boats, and then looks back at the Doctor like he’s taken leave of his senses. 

Apparently distracting her is going to take a bit more work. He tries to think of something else to say and fails because he can still feel the soft, smooth skin of her upper arms under his fingertips even though he is no longer touching her. That leaves only one option really. Escape.

“Right, so, I’m just going to go rent that car. Why don’t you…” He makes a sweeping gesture at the waterfront in general. “…go and sightsee. I’ll meet you at the top of those stairs in say, half an hour. If you think you’ll be ok. You could always come along,” he adds,wondering if he’s lost his mind. Wasn’t the whole point of this to escape?

Rose is still observing him thoughtfully. “Don’t worry about me,” she finally says. “I’ll keep busy until you get back. Shopping to do, iconic sculpture to peruse, that sort of thing. Off you go then.” She shoos him away, and he nods once before striding towards the steps that lead away from the waterfront to the main streets of downtown Savannah. 

***

Once he’s gone, Rose strolls along the shop fronts trying to figure out what is going on with the Doctor. He’s just acting so…odd. If she didn’t know better, and she does, she might say he’d been checking her out before. That’s impossible though. As much as she wants him to, the Doctor doesn’t do that sort of thing. There was a time just before his regeneration when she thought maybe… 

But, no. The new, new him flirts with everyone. She’s not exactly special that way. He’s special though. Special, and foxy, and… Rose sighs.

Cassandra was right. Rose _has_ been looking, and the truth is, she _likes_ it far more than she should. Not that she didn’t like it before he regenerated. She did. It doesn’t change things though. She won’t let it. If being with him forever means a lifetime of platonic friendship that never goes further so be it. The life they lead is worth it, and being with him is more than worth it. They’ll just stay best mates, and she’ll continue to make creative use of her “alone time”. 

Rose flops down onto a nearby bench and checks her watch. Fifteen minutes left before she has to meet the Doctor. She could do a little shopping like she said, but it’s boring without him buzzing around her, snatching things out of her hands and blurting out his rather energetic opinions regarding her purchases. She’s suffering Doctor Withdrawal and it’s been less than half an hour. Rose can’t imagine what would happen if they really did get separated. 

She wonders what he would do without her. The answer is distinctly unpleasant because he’d likely just find another companion. And that would be better really. He shouldn’t be alone…but the idea of another person taking her place makes Rose feel all off-kilter. 

Would they sit on the jump seat and banter with him like she does? Would they know exactly how many sugars he takes in his tea? (About five too many, she once took a sip from his teacup by mistake and nearly went into sugar shock.) What about which jam he likes if they are out of marmalade? He gets so petulant if you have the wrong jam on hand. Rose already hates the next companion and hopes whoever it is falls straight out of the TARDIS doors and into deep space without a safety harness. 

She shifts on the bench, resting her back up against one of the metal arms and stretching out her legs on the wooden slats, and spends some time people watching. A casino boat drifts slowly past full of tourists waving wildly and hooting with drunken abandon. Rose waves back and checks her watch again. Oh thank God, it’s time to meet him. She swings her legs off the bench and jogs happily to the stone stairwell. 

***

The Doctor is perusing the car manual when he observes a familiar blonde head cresting the top of the steps. After flipping past a few more pages of the utterly rubbish manual, he opens the window and casually chucks it into the nearest trash bin. Rose shakes her head.

“You know, some people might actually want to _read_ this before driving the car,” she admonishes, gingerly fishing it out and crossing to the car window so she can drop it into his lap. 

He turns the manual around in his hands for a second before giving a superior sniff. “I’m not some people. This is hardly quantum chromodynamics or supersymmetric gauge theory, which, by the way, I studied in Time Lord Kindergarten. Look, Rose, let there be light!” The Doctor flips the switch for what he thinks are the headlights and the windshield wipers start swiping back and forth noisily. 

Rose begins giggling, and his ears go pink. “Yeah, you’ve really got it all down, dontcha Einstein?”

“It’s not my fault if they put the controls for the windshield wipers in a completely unreasonable place,” he pouts. Ridiculous bloody car, showing him up in front of Rose. “Who would put that there?”

“I dunno, maybe every single automobile manufacturer ever?” she responds with a wide grin, and leans in to switch them off.

He swallows hard as the scent of Rose and jasmine shampoo assaults his senses. An insane impulse to bury his face in her neck and inhale consumes him, and he covers it by moving away to replace the manual back in the glove compartment. He closes the little door with a forceful bang.

“Try not to break the car before we even get started, yeah? I think they frown on that sort of thing,” she calls as she’s walking around the car so she can pull open the passenger side door. 

“I purchased the extra insurance,” he replies as she’s settling herself in the seat and fastening the safety-belt. “We could set it on fire if we wanted…” She shoots him a look, and he rapidly backtracks. “…not that we want to do that. Absolutely not. No fires. Not even a spark.”

“Right,” she says, while he’s pulling away from the curb. “So, figure out how to get there?”

“Yep.” He smiles confidently at her. 

“No, really, did you ask?” Rose questions warily. “We aren’t going to end up in Indiana or South Dakota or anything, are we?”

Is she implying that he’d need to ask for directions? She IS! He shoots her a look of righteous indignation. “I’ll have you know, Rose Tyler, that I have an _impeccable_ sense of direction.” 

“Says the man who detoured us from Naples to Cardiff by accident,” Rose mutters to the scenery flashing by the window.

“Oi! That was ONE time!”

“Mhm. And what about Sheffield turning out to be a Scottish moor? Or was Queen Victoria actually Ian Dury in costume?” 

“Fine, twice,” he concedes, somewhat preoccupied by the thought of Ian Dury dressed as Queen Victoria. “That’s hardly a large average in the scheme of things.” Then his mind blinks from Ian Dury in drag, to an image of Rose running around Scotland in the tiny denim overall dress. He eyes his timorous beastie speculatively, wondering if it would look nice over her bikini. Probably. 

Rose catches his eye and pokes her tongue out between her teeth in a teasing smile. “I also seem to remember a certain Time Lord bringing me back twelve months after I left instead of twelve hours.”

“That wasn’t direction, that was _time_ ,” he says in exasperation. “Really, Rose, if you’re going to criticize me, at least have the decency to keep on topic.”

“So sorry. My mistake. They’re completely different, yeah? I’ll try to keep that in mind next time. Although…what’s your excuse for today? Downtown Savannah instead of Tybee Beach?”

“Weeell…I just thought… I mean…” He gets a sudden inspiration. “Shops! You love them! I planned it this way. So you could shop.” 

“Uhuh. I’m so sure. All part of the plan, eh?” Rose rolls her eyes. He decides not to dig himself in any further and doesn’t answer. 

She stretches her arms over her head, arching her back on the seat and he struggles to stay focused on the road. Next time he takes her to a beach, he’s picking a turn of the century one where the dress codes for bathing attire require head to toe coverage. Better still, he could enact a no beach policy. That’s it. From now on, they’re only going to cold places. Rose in a down parka will make it much easier to control his raging libido than Rose mostly undressed. 

Maybe they can go back to Woman Wept. Although…that’s a bit romantic right? She might try to snog him under one of the frozen waves or something. Humans. They can’t control that sort of thing like Time Lords. It’s all shag, shag, shag, and zero ability to be platonic, and oh look, her shorts have ridden right up her gorgeous thighs. Brilliant. 

He’s so busy pretending not to look at the extra inches of thigh going on in the seat next to him, that he doesn’t even realize _why_ he’s seeing so much more of it at first. Rose has produced a paperback from somewhere, kicked off her sandals, and has her bare feet up on the dash with the book propped on her knees. She’s holding it open with both hands and is completely absorbed in whatever it is she’s reading. With her concentration elsewhere, he has carte blanche to enjoy her legs to his hearts’ content. 

Although…why is she reading a book when she could be talking with him? It can’t possibly be more interesting than he is. Can it? No. Impossible. What is it about anyway? The Doctor fidgets for a few minutes before the need to know what the book is about starts to make him crazy. Is this what kind of man he is? The kind that gets jealous over Rose’s reading material? Yes. Yes he is. And now he’s absolutely desperate to know what she’s reading and why she’s picked it over his company.

Of course, the Doctor doesn’t think to just ask her. Instead, he reaches over to check the cover of the book himself. It all would have gone without a hitch had there not been a family of nine banded armadillos crossing the road at that exact moment. His body sets into motion a string of lightning-fast reflexes that end in a barely perceptible swerve to avoid them, but the long and short of it is that his hand ends up landing on Rose’s leg instead of the book. 

The Doctor checks the rearview mirror to see the family of armadillos unperturbedly ambling across the street as if they hadn’t just caused the most monumental situation of his past two regenerations. His hand is still resting on a silky stretch of thigh just above Rose’s knee cap, fingers wrapped around her soft warm skin just _lingering_ there. Waiting. For what he’s not sure, but they are definitely waiting. In fact, they’ve sent a message back to his brain explaining that they might not be returning for quite some time as they are otherwise occupied.

He needs to move them. Should absolutely move them. Any minute now. Any minute, he will stop his stationary caress of her leg and return his hand to the steering wheel where it belongs. Because even though Rose doesn’t seem to mind, isn’t asking what his hand is doing there or pointing out that he is taking liberties she’d rather he didn’t, it is bound to get weird at some point. Even more so now that it has been there FAR too long for it to qualify as accidental. 

The Doctor is just about to peel his hand away from her thigh when Rose reaches over nonchalantly and sets her palm on his leg just above the knee. Then, in a move that leaves him breathless, she gives it a little squeeze. Oh, it’s just a friendly little thing…so friendly in fact that his fingers decide to get in on it and squeeze back. His fingers, without consulting him at all, have basically just _hugged_ Rose Tyler’s knee. 

He’s now equal parts giddy and terrified, what with all the knee hugging and her hand which is still on his leg. That lovely little hand which is absently stroking… _stroking_ …the fabric of his trousers with her thumb. And through all of it, she is still reading that damn book. Like hands on legs aren’t affecting her in the least. Well, he’s not going to have that. If he is going to be short of breath, then so is she. 

With slow, measured movements, he begins curling his fingers against the inside of her thigh. The touch so light, it’s barely a touch at all. Except that it is. He can feel every millimeter of her skin beneath the pads of his fingers, which is why he notices immediately when she goes into gooseflesh all over. She’s still got the book open, but a tiny shiver runs through her…just a little tremor but it’s like shockwaves of warning to him. 

It’s enough to snap him out of whatever trance he’s been in for the past few minutes and refocus on behaving himself, and he snatches his hand back under the pretense that he needs it to steer. Rose pulls her hand away to flip a page and the Doctor exhales silently in relief. He can handle this. They haven’t actually crossed any lines here, and the dunes are looming up in the distance ahead of them, which means they’re almost at their destination. 

She continues reading as he attempts to find a parking space without becoming entranced by the sight of her calves flexing and her perfect toes, inexplicably wearing a bright blue polish, tapping on the dash. 

It’s a close thing, but he manages not to hop the curb and gets them parked in one piece. Almost before the keys are out of the ignition, he’s springing from the car like a jack-in-the-box, opening the door behind the driver’s side to pull out his messenger bag and slamming it closed again. Rose is still unclipping her seatbelt by the time he’s in the front of the car feigning impatience. 

She looks at him and the small bag in confusion. “Where’s all our stuff? The towels and things?”

“In here,” he says, patting the bag reassuringly. “You’ll see.”

“You’ve fit everything in there?” She starts to pull the flap up and he slaps her hand away. “Even the sunscreen? What about lunch?”

“I assure you, Rose, I’ve got it all under control. Everything your heart could desire for an afternoon at the shore is safely stowed away inside this unassuming messenger bag. Now, don’t we need to pick a spot? Isn’t that what you do? Find a spot and spread out towels?” He grabs her hand and strides purposefully towards the sign indicating the beach access.

Just a few steps onto the wooden walkway, Rose stops abruptly and pulls him to a halt. “Wait. Is that what you’re wearing?” She points to the suit. “You can’t be serious. It’s a _beach_! Full of sand and salt and water. You’ll be a mess. Don’t you own swim trunks?”

He glances around uncomfortably at the sea oats and yucca plants growing on the dunes, trying to think of an excuse that will allow him to remain as un-naked as possible for as long as possible. “Of course I own swim trunks. They’re underneath my clothes. I just thought, maybe…what’s the harm in keeping the suit on? I could take off my jacket and roll up my shirtsleeves, I suppose. Very beachy, rolled shirtsleeves.” He begins unfastening his cuffs in the hopes that it will placate her while she stands there rolling her eyes at him. 

“You. Are. Mental. Take it off.” She starts to unknot his tie and he flinches away.

“Rose,” he squeaks, “are you suggesting I get undressed right here on the beach access?”

Rose narrows her eyes and folds her arms across her chest. “I’m suggesting you act normal for once and don’t wear a _suit_ onto a beach. So yes. Off with it. Or we’re not moving another step.”

Reluctantly, he gives in and begins working the buttons on his jacket. Once off, he folds it and sets it on the wooden rail behind him, and starts on his shirt and tie. Rose is watching every movement carefully. Actually, one might even say she’s _fixated_ on the sight of him get undressed. Well, that’s…new. Mostly only because he’s never gotten undressed in front of her before…but… She does seem rather intent on getting his clothes off. No. No, no. Going down that road is a very bad idea. He is simply not going to think about why Rose might want him to get undressed or how less clothes will make it so much easier to do _things_. 

By now he’s got his shirt off and that just leaves his vest and trousers. Surely Rose won’t insist on his vest. But of course she’s standing there holding her hand out for it. He tugs it off in one swift motion and tosses it to her, trying to act like this is no big deal. Because it isn’t, or shouldn’t be, anyway. He does it all the time to shower. Of course, she’s not there for that. Gods, he wishes she were there for that. And oh look…his mind has gone traipsing away again. Why is his brain refusing to do anything but work against him today? It’s infuriating. 

Anyway, the vest is off, so the next logical step is trousers. His fingers scrabble uselessly over the button. Rassilon, when did these things become so difficult to unfasten? He never remembers having problems before.

“Need a little help there?” Rose asks cheekily.

The Doctor freezes. Did she just offer to unbutton his trousers? Why has his mouth gone so dry? Maybe he needs to go straight back to the TARDIS and check his salivary glands out in the infirmary. It could be serious. Some sort of ocean related ailment or something. Although… He runs through all possible illnesses that could affect his advanced physiology and can’t come up with a single one that he could catch on Earth which causes this kind of dry mouth other than… Well, other than nerves. So, nerves then. Brilliant. 

This is ridiculous. There is no reason why he can’t strip down to a bathing suit in front of Rose without suffering a panic attack. She’s worn one in front of him plenty of times. In fact, he’s got each instance mentally catalogued alphabetically by color of bikini, with sub-categories for percentage of skin on display, location where the bathing-suit-ness happened, and amount of times she got in the water. For instance, on Relixicon Alpha, she wore a hot pink one piece with enticing side cut-outs, and spent most of her time sunbathing, only swimming twice. Then on the second moon of Vallatraxia she wore an acid green bikini with ruffles, and the undertow nearly caused a wardrobe malfunction that fueled his fantasies for weeks afterwards. 

Thinking of various Rose beach incidents has distracted him from worrying about getting undressed. He’s finally gotten the fastenings of his trousers undone, and has them partially down his hips when Rose touches his arm to stop him.

“Um, Doctor,” she says in amusement, “I find taking your trainers off _before_ your trousers really works best, but what I do know? I’m only human after all. Maybe Time Lords have a whole different way of doing it. Perhaps it’s a superior undressing technique I’ve never heard of....” She starts to shake with laughter at the expression on his face. “...but…by all means…carry on. I’m interested in seeing how this all plays out.”

Bugger all, she’s right. He was ten seconds away from an absolute debacle clothes-wise. The Doctor pictures himself flailing desperately as he tries to get his slim-fitting trousers over his still tied Converse Chucks and cringes inwardly. 

“I knew that,” he replies a bit more loudly than he intended. “I was just getting to it.”

“Uhuh. I’m sure.” And there’s that tongue, poking out between her teeth again like it knows exactly what that does to him. “Here, why not just let me…” Rose kneels in front of him to unlace his trainers.

Oh this…this is trouble. He’s pictured something roughly along the lines of this scenario far too many times. Usually though, she’s not bothering with his trainers, her attention is focused a bit more…North-ish. Northward? Well, North anyway. He gazes down at the top of her head and can’t help conjuring up a very vivid image of her mouth on him, driving him to the brink of insanity, right here on this very public beach access. 

Far too soon, she’s got his trainers untied, and pops back up. “There! All fixed.” And she pats his bare shoulder.

He toes off the trainers and leans down to peel away his socks, tucking them into one of his trouser pockets. And now they’ve come to it. In just a moment, the Doctor is going to be a fair bit more naked than he was when they arrived in Georgia. A fair bit more naked with Rose standing right there in front of him waiting for him to get on with it. He steels himself, grabs the waistband, and slides his trousers off, quickly bending down to scoop them up off the wooden planks under his feet. As he straightens up, he notices Rose staring at him wide-eyed. He shifts uneasily from foot to foot under her scrutiny. 

“What?” he says, craning his head to make sure everything is in place with his trunks. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing…it’s just…um…” She licks her lips. “ _That’s_ your bathing suit?” She cocks her head and swallows hard as she takes it in.

“Well, yes. Why? Is it bad? It’s vintage,” he says a little defensively. “I picked it up that time we went to see Elvis. Well, the second time we went to see Elvis. You know…when we actually saw him,” the Doctor clarifies, inadvertently swiveling his hips at the mention of Elvis. Rose’s eyes get even wider. “I thought it was kind of 007 in Casino Royale, myself, but if you don’t like it… I could always put my trousers back on.” 

“No!” Rose practically shouts, and then turns bright crimson. “I mean, it’s fine. And it looks um…aerodynamic…for swimming.” 

She stops and appears to be rethinking her words like she can’t believe they came out of her mouth. He draws his eyebrows together, trying to sort out why she suddenly can’t meet his eye, and just like that a light bulb clicks on in his head. She _likes_ the suit. Quite a bit, unless he’s very much mistaken. Isn’t that just fantastic? The grin starts at the corners of his mouth and spreads across his face until he’s practically leering with manly pride. 

“Aerodynamic, Rose? Really? I hadn’t considered that. Hm,” He twists sideways and pretends to be examining the erstwhile aerodynamics. “I suppose it is rather sleek. I’m glad you approve. Just imagine if you didn’t. I’d have to go in starkers.” 

There’s a split instant where Rose’s expression clearly expresses interest in the starkers option before she’s able to compose her features. Well, well, isn’t having the upper hand a refreshing change? This newfound upper hand lasts approximately until Rose flips open the button on her shorts and shimmies out of them, exposing the bottom half of her bikini to him. She didn’t. She did NOT find a bikini with tiny bananas printed on it. Where do they even _sell_ something like that? Torturous Clothing Incorporated?

His musings over what sort of clothing manufacturer would create something so dangerous are cut short by Rose tugging her vest off over her head. The sheer amount of naked companion flesh on display leaves the Doctor desperately searching for something else to focus his attention on. He opts for a distant pelican wheeling through the sky behind her. It’s so far in the distance that despite his frankly magnificent eyesight, he can’t tell if it even is a pelican.. It might be a kite. Regardless, he’s going to keep staring at it. The peli-kite is so much safer than say…Rose wrapped in some gloriously miniscule scraps of spandex blend. 

He risks another brief glance and notes the banana theme repeats on the bikini top, and tiny banana-shaped beads dangle from the strings holding the bottom tied shut at her hips. Rassilon’s fucking Froot Loops! It’s entirely possible he will die of unresolved lust right here on the dunes because of Rose and her should-be-illegal string bikini. Right. Where has that bloody pelican gone? 

Blissfully ignorant of his agitated state, Rose finishes folding her clothes and hands them over to him. The Doctor takes them and unceremoniously shoves the whole lot into the messenger bag. Then he slings the bag over his shoulder, slips his feet into his untied trainers and holds out his hand for her to take. 

After a few more seconds of walking, and attempting more than a few surreptitious glimpses of each other, they begin to fall back into a familiar companionable pattern. He rambles on about the various flora and fauna of interest speckling the dunes and by the time they reach the sand, things feel almost normal again. Well, normal if the two of them spending time together in what more or less amounts to aquatic underwear was something they did on a regular basis. 

It takes them about fifteen minutes of walking, but they finally find a place far enough away from everyone that aside from a scant few tourists, they are more or less alone. The Doctor sets the messenger bag down, unclasps the flap and starts rummaging around inside, examining different objects by touch until he finds what he’s searching for. Rose watches in astonishment as he pulls an entire beach umbrella out of the opening at the top and plants it firmly in the sand.

“Could you get that open? I need to get the other things set up,” he says cheerfully, reaching back into the bag once more. This time his arm disappears almost up to his shoulder before he finds what he wants. “Aha!” he cries triumphantly and hauls a large rolled up unidentifiable object out. “Beach mat!”

The Doctor unfurls the sizeable woven mat out on the sand with a flourish, and then plucks their towels, lunch, and sunscreen from somewhere in the depths of the messenger bag. Rose observes the entire procedure in silence, while he carefully arranges everything, setting their towels neatly side by side and the smallish cooler containing their lunch directly between them. By the end of it, she’s shaking her head in wonder.

“Did you nick that bag from Dumbledore?” she finally asks. 

He looks up at her with a snort. “Honestly, Rose, Time Lords were doing the trans-dimensional bag trick long before he was even words on a printed page. Besides, if this _did_ belong to Dumbledore, it would probably be covered in stars and owls and…oh!” The Doctor pulls his hand out of the bag, this time clutching a small brown, leather object which he hastily tries to stuff back inside before Rose notices. 

“What’s that?” She deftly reaches over and swipes it out of his fingers. “Is this your wallet? You own a _wallet_?” 

Rose flips the wallet open, and he makes a grab for it but misses. She holds the wallet out of reach and starts to look through it. Oh, this is going to be...well..not bad exactly, but awkward certainly. If he’s very, very, very lucky, she’ll only find the money and not the other thing that’s in the wallet. He prays to every deity he doesn’t believe in that luck is with him on this. 

“Oh my GOD, you’ve got twenty-five quid in here! Twenty-five quid and you never paid me the ten you owe me from Queen Victoria! Oooh, yesterday I bought our chips. Where was your wallet then, eh?” 

She smacks him in the arm while continuing to inspect his wallet. He spots her closing in on the thing he doesn’t want her to see and makes a second failed attempt to retrieve his property. It probably would have been better if he’d done nothing, because his attempt to nick it back from her only turns her attention to the very item he so desperately wishes she wouldn’t notice. 

“What’s this? A picture of an old girlfriend?” Rose asks teasingly, attempting to extricate the backwards-facing photograph out of its plastic casing for a proper look. 

Rose, look at all those nice, wavey waves! “Don’t you want to go swimming? Surely they are more fun than whatever is in my boring old wallet. You could just... put that back now, and we’ll get in the water. I’ll even let you sit on my shoulders. C’mon, Rose, please?” he begs, squirming in embarrassment as she works it loose and flips it over. 

“My mum took this picture at Christmas,” Rose says quietly. 

Her head is bent over the photo. Strands of hair that have fallen loose from her plaits are obscuring her face so the Doctor can’t tell what she’s thinking. He’s desperate to know. Will she be upset or think him completely barmy for carrying it around with him? Worse still, will she realize _why_ he has it in his wallet. Especially since it’s the only photo in there. 

Raising her wide hazel eyes to meet his at last, she hesitantly asks “Did you… Did you take this off my phone?” 

He stands up so he can see the picture in her hand. Not that this is necessary, he’s got every single pixel of it memorized down to the shades of pink in Rose’s smiling lips and rounded cheeks. “I… Yes. And I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done it without asking. It’s just that… Well, you looked so happy, and the picture was really nice of the two of us and I thought…” He pauses to clear his throat. “It wasn’t easy, not... not knowing if you’d accept the _new_ new me, and I needed you to... Oh, so very badly. I didn’t want to get back onto the TARDIS without you, and it seemed, when this picture was taken, that you’d be coming along.” 

Rose returns to the picture. In it, his arm is around her shoulders and she’s leaning her head back against him, both of them beaming away like idiots. Or like a couple. Truthfully, that’s exactly what they look like. A couple. Which, he has to admit to himself, is precisely why he has the picture in his wallet. It embodies everything he wants, and doesn’t think he can have. 

“You needed _me_...or you needed me to accept you?” She peers up into his face, biting her lip.

“Both,” he replies. “Nothing had changed for me mentally. You were still the only person I wanted to travel with. New body, new face, new even more impressive gob…” The Doctor smiles. “…but everything I felt for you was locked inside here.” He touches his temple and then pats his chest. 

She gazes at him thoughtfully for a moment and then seems to come to a decision. “Don’t move,” she cautions in a breathless voice. “Just…stay right there and enjoy this. ‘Kay?” And with that, she leans in and tentatively brushes her lips along his. 

It’s as if the whole world drops straight into oblivion the minute she initiates the kiss. The sounds of the gulls and beachgoers become a muted backdrop to Rose’s measured breaths and beating heart. He’s not moving, frozen and lost somewhere between terror and elation. Even his mouth has gone into a panic, unable to return the kiss or even acknowledge it. Before he can rectify this fact, Rose pulls back, rejection written on every feature. 

“I’m sorry. I thought you wanted… Just me then. Good to know. Won’t happen again. Sorry,” she mumbles, and starts to turn away, face scarlet, eyes full of hurt.

He swiftly winds his arm around her waist, pulling her back into his snug embrace. There’s one second where he sees the shocked and hopeful look on her face and then he’s snogging her. Properly snogging her. The hand on the arm that isn’t wrapped around her back is buried in her hair, and as her lips fall open into a small O of surprise he darts his tongue inside, sliding it along her own. 

Rose relaxes into the kiss, twining her own arms around his shoulders and allowing him to bend her backwards until she’s almost parallel to the sand. Her breasts are flush against the manly smattering of hair on his very manly pectorals and certain distractingly interesting parts of her are rubbing against some highly interested parts of him. 

 

Those parts, his parts, are quite chuffed to meet hers at long last. In fact, they’re clamoring to get to know her better, but although he and Rose are on a fairly unpopulated stretch of beach, they aren’t remotely alone. The Doctor suspects ripping off her bikini and making frantic love to her right here would be frowned upon by the general public and local authorities. 

He and his bits will just have to have a little patience. At some point the sun will go down and then… Well, then things can _progress_. He’s got the highest respect for the level of progression he intends to take the very minute darkness falls and they are safe from prying eyes. In say…about four hours. Four hours until making love to Rose. That is, if she wants to. He should ask. 

The Doctor straightens up and lifts his head away, wondering if his expression is as dazed and snog-drunk as hers is. “Rose? Would you like to have intercourse with me?”

Rose’s eyes fly open and her jaw drops. “I… What? Now?” she manages to choke out. Then she holds up a hand before he can answer. “Scratch that. Yes. Yes, I’d love to shag you.”

“Oh!” He grins hugely. “Really? Well, that is just BRILLIANT! So…” The Doctor ruffles through the hair on top of his head. “…we’ll do that then. You know, later. You and me. With the erm…the shagging.”

“M’looking forward to it.” Rose grins back, tongue peeking from between her teeth. “Hey Doctor?”

“What?” he asks and she wriggles out of his arms and takes off towards the surf.

“Betcha can’t catch me!” she yells over her shoulder, jumping through the frothy waves.

“Oh, Rose Tyler,” he mutters under his breath while watching her diving in and out of the water, “I’m going to catch you alright. And once I do, I’m going to keep you.” 

***

For Rose this has been an afternoon of revelations. The Doctor snogged her! Not only that, but he as good as promised that he plans on shagging her later. Shagging the Doctor. God, she’s wanted that for so long. 

There were times when she thought it might actually happen, but nothing ever came of it. That one evening over a year ago, after they had danced in the console room, she was sure he was going to ask to come in when he walked her to her door later, but he didn’t. They stood there in the hall, her head dizzy from the dancing and the scent of his leather jacket swirling in the air. She kept waiting but he seemed content to lean on the doorjamb and talk endlessly in what she has come to recognize as the Time Lord Potential Sex Diversion Tactic.

Now though, it seems like he’s come to a decision. He’s been so playful and silly ever since that kiss on the beach. Chasing her into the water and diving under her so he can boost her up on his shoulders and launch her into the waves. He is also finding any excuse to get his arms around her. Not that she is complaining. If he needs to pretend to be protecting her from getting bowled over by the calm surf by hugging her tightly against his chest, then she’ll let him. 

After about an hour or so of playing in the water, they stagger back up onto the sand and collapse on the towels so they can eat. He produces a large, soft quilt like magic from the depths of the messenger bag and spreads it out like a picnic blanket over the beach mat. Rose pulls a sandwich out of the little cooler, hands it to him, and then takes one for herself. While they eat, the Doctor entertains her with descriptions of beaches on other planets he’d like to take her to someday. When she reaches over to brush some crumbs from his lips he catches her fingers and kisses them, and Rose believes it is likely the most perfect afternoon of her life. 

Once the food is eaten, he decides the sunscreen she applied before they left the TARDIS is probably long gone and happily coats her back in more. Then he puts some on her front. Several minutes of breathless snogging later she manages to apply some to him, even though he insists it isn’t necessary, and they set off down the beach to look for shells, hand in hand. 

By the time they get back to their towels, nearly all the other beachgoers have left and the sun is starting to dip behind the waves. The Doctor stands behind her and wraps his arms around her waist and she leans back contentedly into his chest and he nuzzles the top of her head. It all feels so natural and normal, and more than a little bit exhilarating watching the dying light spread out across the water in a dazzling array of pinks and golds. 

He’s been moving so slowly that she isn’t even sure when his hands started roaming. His fingers are suddenly skimming over the fabric of her bikini bottoms, slipping underneath the uppermost edge slightly and then retreating to tug a bit at the tie on the side. Then the other hand is traveling up and cupping one of her breasts, thumb stroking and circling over her nipple. He shifts so the thumb is now _under_ her bikini top, and she gasps with the sensation of him touching her that way at last. 

“Rose,” he whispers in her ear, “look at me.”

She turns her head and he claims her mouth, lips moving gently over hers, tongue sliding along her bottom lip begging entrance. With a happy sigh, she parts her lips and his tongue slides against hers, causing shivers to course through her whole body. If he can do that to her with a just kiss, then she can’t imagine what he could do with...oh! Oh...oh! While he was keeping her attention elsewhere with his kisses his hand had drifted inside her bikini bottoms and his fingers were now teasing her sex. 

Rose reaches a hand up and curls it around the back of his neck for balance as she leans back into him. “Touch me,” she murmurs into his mouth. “Please, please just touch me.”

The Doctor groans as his fingers slide inside her at last. “So wet… Rose you’re so wet and warm. Rassilon! I love that you’re so wet for me.” He begins kissing her neck, and she arches against him like a cat. 

“Been this wet all day, Doctor. Other days too. Always for you. Sometimes when you’re just working under the console, nattering away, I sit on the jump seat and imagine you touching me just like this. Been wanting you so much and for so long.” 

With a needy growl bubbling up from deep in this throat, the Doctor spins her around to face him and crashes his lips down on hers again while frantically clutching at her and dragging her tight to him. Her tongue slips out to tangle with his and a tremendous jolt of heat courses through her as she feels his rock-hard arousal on her thigh. 

Then his hands are everywhere, one straying down to press against the small of her back so he can grind against her and the other untying her bikini top. He gets it undone and tosses it across the sand just as Rose decides to stick her hand down his shorts and wrap her fingers around his straining length. 

“Oh! Oh… Rose….that… You just… Oh, that is so…” His lashes flutter shut and then open again as he begins to move his hips in time with her hand. 

Rose is peppering kisses everywhere she can reach. Across his collarbone, on his Adams’s apple, down his neck and chest, over the freckles covering his shoulders. Now that it’s allowed, she can’t get enough of his skin beneath her lips. He ducks his head to snog her again, and then moves along her jaw and ear, giving little nips and bites that have her whimpering. The hand around his cock stutters and stops as she writhes against him, trying desperately to get some much-needed friction. 

“Quilt,” he says, turning her and walking her backwards. “Quilt, quilt, quilt.” 

Her legs encounter the edge of the messenger bag and she starts to tumble backwards, but he catches her and lowers her carefully to the blanket. She tries to pull herself up and he halts her by closing his fingers around her hips. 

“I’d like to take these off,” he states urgently, fingers plucking at the bows on her bikini bottoms. “Now. I’d like to take these off _NOW_.”

Rose obligingly lifts up. “So, do it then.” 

And, with great enthusiasm, he does. Her heart is leaping, and her mind is skipping like a broken film reel by the time he finally has her bare. There have been so many times when she’d imagined this. What seems like a lifetime of cold showers and furtive incidents of muffled cries into her pillows as she used those daydreams to bring herself to release alone in her room. And now she has him, right here, the way she’s always wanted it to be. 

The Doctor slides his palms up the inside of her thighs, parting them and opening her to his gaze. Rose raises up on her elbows to watch him as he kneels down in front of her and follows the path his hands have just taken with his lips. She’s trembling by the time he reaches her center. 

He’s kissing her there, closed mouthed, almost chaste and then… Oh, God! Not closed mouth, not _remotely_ chaste. All that gorgeous oral fixation ratcheting her up into the stratosphere with every single swipe of his tongue. He’s using his fingers too, circling her clit as he laps around them, sliding two of them inside to curl against her in a come-hither motion. 

She wonders if it’s possible to die from pleasure and float away into the faint streaks of the fading sunset overhead. Then her orgasm hits and she doesn’t wonder anymore. She just feels, and shakes, and threads her fingers through his hair pulling him closer as she cries out into the still twilight. He licks a few more times, and Rose wriggles her over-sensitive skin away from his tongue, sliding her hand between her body and his mouth. 

“Need a mo’,” she says, still panting a bit. 

The Doctor pounces on her, holding his weight up on his palms as he brings his face down so he can give her a series of fleeting kisses. “Not too long I hope. There are a few more things I’d like to try. Although… I should probably take these off first.” 

Quick as a thought, he flips over next to her on the blanket so he can remove his swim shorts, kicking them off once he gets them down to his ankles. Rose laughs and splays her hand on his chest, slowly sliding it down over his stomach and tickling lightly before closing her fingers around his cock. The breath hisses in through his teeth, and he twitches in her hand.

“Rose, as much as I love that, and I do love that…really, I can’t even tell you how much…you’re wreaking havoc with my stamina. Aside from my own hand, those parts really are hardly used. Completely unused actually, and if you _want_ to put them to proper use…” He trails off and his eyes flash into hers with a look that is half lust, half vulnerability, and all need.

She strokes one more time, giving him a little squeeze and then rolls up on her knees so she can throw a leg over his hips and straddle him. Reaching between them, she guides him to her entrance and holds him there, waiting. He pushes up with his hips and she lifts at the same time, keeping him from sliding inside.

“Tease,” he says through gritted teeth.

“Just savoring the moment,” Rose replies, and drops down lightly to encase the head of his cock in her slick warmth.

His eyes flutter closed and then open again as his hips strain to allow him further penetration. “Please…” he says helplessly. “Please let me in.”

She cups his cheek in her hand and, with his gaze locked on hers, lowers her body completely around him. The sensation of having him finally inside her is incredible. As she begins to undulate her hips above him, she can already feel ripples of pleasure radiating out from her center and through every nerve ending. He’s like nothing she’s ever felt before and she already knows she’ll never be able to get enough.

“You feel so good. _So_ good. God,” she gasps out as the breeze off the inky-black ocean sends her hair fluttering around her face.

“You too, oh Rose…” He thrusts up against her as she comes down and they both moan. “But I want…” The Doctor extends his hand to touch her face, ghosting his fingers over her skin until he reaches her temple. “May I?”

It takes her a second to realize what he’s asking, and another to decide there’s nothing she’s afraid of him seeing. What can he possibly discover that he doesn’t know already? Even more surprising, she finds she wants it. More than she ever could have imagined she would.

“Yes. Yes, _please_. Anything you want, I’m yours.”

He gives her a look of pure delight and brings the other hand up to gently press his fingertips on either side of her head. One moment Rose is aware of the beach and the wind and the surf pounding behind her and then all she can see is him. He’s everywhere, inside her, around her, filling her up and flowing through her like an incandescent blaze of electrical current. 

Her mind is utterly overwhelmed by the vast tapestry of lives, faces, and personalities spanning out before her. For a moment she’s sure she’s caught a beloved, familiar whiff of leather before it all coalesces back down into the Doctor here with her now. The sensation like an electrical current stays, but it recedes into a steady, bright hum sparking through her body and lighting her up over every inch of her skin. 

Rose basks in it, turning her face up as if she’s standing in a sunbeam, and he laughs joyfully underneath her as he trails his fingers from her temple to her neck and down her back, never breaking contact. 

“Like that, do you?” he asks, then groans as she grinds slowly down on him. “Oh keep.. Keep doing that.”

“Not gonna stop...but let me just...” She leans back on her palms and moves her hips in series of tight figure-eights that have him gasping beneath her. 

The Doctor slides his hands over her hips, and back up her ribcage so he can cup her breasts, rolling her nipples between his fingers until she’s moaning. She continues her slow grinding motions as he touches her and then drops down over him to whisper desperately in his ear. 

“Want you, oh want you harder. Need to feel you deep inside me. Please, Doctor.”

He inhales sharply and wraps his fingers around her waist so he can flip them over. Once he has her below him, he pulls out nearly entirely and then sheaths himself again in one solid thrust. 

“God, yes. Yes, just like that,” Rose pants out, as he continues his strong, deliberate thrusts while she slips her hand between them to draw slick circles around her clit. 

The sky above is bathed in thousands of radiant silver stars and they fill her vision and shimmer around his face as he moves faster inside her, carrying her closer and closer to climax. She’s teetering on the edge, just balancing there under the giant bowl of the sky where it touches ocean and sand. The sensation of his skin in its points of contact with hers is all indescribable, breathtaking friction. He tilts her hips with his hands and the pressure changes, builds, rushes through her everywhere, and when he bends to kiss her again it’s enough to send her flying. Within moments he’s chasing right after her, rhythm turning erratic, before he lifts his face away and locks his eyes on hers as he comes. Rose watches his eyes flash and then go vague as he gasps her name, before he slumps towards her, barely catching his weight on his forearms 

Afterwards he holds her with her body cuddled against his, legs tangled together, faces turned towards the stars. She tucks her head under his chin and traces looping patterns across his chest. 

“You see that one?” He lifts a hand and points to a single star shining brightly above them.

She follows the line of his outstretched arm to its destination in the sky. “S’beautiful, what’s it called?”

“It’s common name is Vega. But the Japanese named it Orihime. They have a festival for it called Tanabata. And that one there…” He moves his arm slightly to point out another one. “…that’s Altair, or Hikoboshi. There’s a legend about them, very romantic.” His voice lowers and he strokes her hair. “They were lovers who were separated by the Amanogawa, or as you call it, the Milky Way. Because of this, they can only meet once a year on the seventh day of the seventh month of the Lunisolar calendar. See how close they are now, practically touching? All year they wander the skies apart, alone and longing for each other, waiting for that one shining night when they can be together and we just happened to catch their reunion. Lovely story, isn’t it? I should take you to that festival.”

She cuddles a bit closer at the wistful sound in his voice. “I’d love that. Maybe tomorrow, yeah? Unless you have somewhere else in mind.”

“How about the day after tomorrow? Tomorrow I’ve got another place I’d like to show you.” His mercurial mood shifts and he turns to her with a cocky grin.

“Oh? Where’s that?” she asks, fairly sure she already knows the answer.

“My bed,” he says, and dives on top of her again as she squeals and giggles. 

***

Epilogue:

It’s early morning before they stumble, sleepy and sated from the beach, Rose holding his hand as the first pearly streaks of light spread across the sky. She dozes on the way back to the TARDIS, and he rests his hand on her leg, moving it only to shift gears. He parks opposite the alley where they arrived yesterday afternoon. There’s no sense in the returning the car. The psychic paper he used to rent it won’t lead them back to him or Rose and they’ll find it eventually. Besides, after all he’s done, the Doctor figures the universe owes him one free ride. 

He spends a moment just looking at Rose slumbering on the seat next to his before waking her. Beautiful, brilliant, fantastic Rose Tyler. The girl who led him out of darkness and saved him from himself. Bad Wolf, Defender of the Earth, dearest thing to his hearts, and now he gets to call her _his_. Oh, he’s lucky. Lucky, and grateful, and happy beyond measure.

He quietly exits the car and gathers the bag containing their things. Then he tugs open the passenger side door and gently unclips her seat belt before bringing his lips close to her ear.

“Rose, wake up.” He strokes a finger down her cheek.

She stirs, stretches, opens her eyes. “Mmmm, where are we?”

He shifts so she can see the TARDIS behind him,and says one word. “Home.”


End file.
